The Runaway Asteroid | Page 3

Seaton and Joe
Taylor and their companion Steve Cliff, had followed less than fifteen minutes later. The
brief lead that Lurton Zimbardo's ship had was enough to keep the Silver Spear out of the
clutches of their pursuers, but not by much. The crew of the Spear was suffering acutely
from sleeplessness and mounting anxiety.
Only days earlier, Lurton Zimbardo had been second-in-command under Troy Putnam.
Together they had organized over 500 men and attempted to take control of the capital
city of Mars in a sudden attack. Had they succeeded, the pirates could have held the
people of the Earth-Moon system hostage to their demands. The Starmen and their allies
had thwarted the pirates' plan. Most of the pirates, including their leader, had been
captured. Zimbardo, however, had escaped with a few others. With the Starmen in close
pursuit, he was desperately trying to outrun them and return to the pirates' base in the
Asteroid Belt.
The Belt loomed up. The first few chunks of rock were visible now to the unaided eyes of
those on the deck of the Silver Spear. In seconds, they were among them. The navigator
screamed as the ship whipped by a pitted rock a quarter of a mile long, missing it by a
few yards.
"Fool!" shouted Zimbardo. "Turn on the automatic pilot!" The navigator's eyes were the
size of saucers. Immobile with terror, he didn't respond to Zimbardo's command. The
former second-in-command of the pirates pushed him out of the chair, took over, and
activated the switch that cut in the automatic pilot. Lurton Zimbardo was not physically
imposing, but more than made up for his slight build with an immensely strong will and a
decisive nature that was merciless whenever it served him.
He knew they were going too fast even for the automatic pilot to keep the ship safe once
they entered the thick sweep of the asteroids. He also knew that the Belt was their only
hope of escaping the Starmen on their trail. Powered by adrenaline, his senses were
functioning at their peak. With amazing alacrity and intensity, Zimbardo aided the
automatic pilot and threaded the Silver Spear through the weaving asteroids. It almost
seemed as if he were in a trance.
Soon a dark asteroid loomed ahead, roughly shaped like a potato, forty-five miles long
and twenty-five wide, rotating slowly around its longest axis. It was nearly invisible both
to the eye and to the instruments, but Zimbardo knew where it was. He barked out a
command. The Silver Spear slowed quickly, and moments later a huge airlock door
opened in one of the poles of the asteroid. Zimbardo piloted the ship into the airlock,

through the stone tunnel that led into the interior of the asteroid, and then touched down.
The thin, wiry man raced for the control room as fast as he could run, pushing men out of
the way and heeding no one who called out to him. Once inside, he quickly pressed a
series of buttons and entered a numeric code. Once it was entered and confirmed, he
made a fist and slammed it hard on a large red button. Immediately all the radar screens
were covered with snow.
Zimbardo relaxed for the first time in days. He exhaled quietly and actually smiled. He
took a deep breath and smiled more broadly.
"Sir?" asked one of the technicians who had watched the procedure.
"I detonated a hydrogen bomb on a neighboring asteroid a couple of hundred miles from
here. Part of a backup plan for keeping this place hidden. It will clog all radar screens for
a few minutes. By the time they clear, no one will be able to find us or this asteroid."
Zimbardo's relaxed state did not last long. He swelled up with energy again, strode to
another console, and tapped in a series of commands.
"Come here, Gene," he ordered as his fingers flew over the keyboard. The man he
addressed quickly came to stand by the pirate leader. He was a well-built young man in
his late twenties with short curly brown hair, finely chiseled features, and an obvious
desire to please. He was well trained in the technology of space control systems. After he
had proven his competence in the field, Troy Putnam had made him his chief control
officer.
Zimbardo continued. "Follow these coordinates at this speed. Don't alter the course for
any reason without my permission."
Gene looked at the planning board where the numbers were posted in a pleasant green
light. "That course will take us out of the Belt, Mr. Zimbardo. Is that what you want?"
"That's what I want. It's time to move away from here. If anything out of the ordinary
happens, let me know immediately. Find me by using my personal